Wanting to be Helpless
by rinabina
Summary: Ron and Hermione start to sort out a year of misunderstandings under the moon at Bill and Fleur's wedding. Tears, laughter, and a little snogging to follow. Please rr!


Disclaimer: All J.K. Rowling. Okay, who enjoyed book six as much as me? Raise your hand now.

Author's Notes: Okay FINALLY I finished this story. I've been working on it since I finished the book the day after it came out. Ugh, talk about writer's block. Anyway, this takes place after school, at Bill and Fleur's wedding. I wanted to resolve things between Ron and Hermione in a good way, yet not without sorting things out. So here you go, my favorite story up to day. I hope I do them justice. I probably will write an epilogue or a second chapter, but don't quote me on that. Please _please_ r/r! I would love to hear your thoughts and suggestions!

Wanting to be Helpless

Hermione Granger leaned heavily against a lattice arch. It creaked and swayed slightly under her weight, but soon settled back to being still and white atop a small hill in the Weasley's back garden. The Burrow towered beside her, nearly dark as the evening progressed. At the moment everyone was outside, dancing in the warm summer air. The navy sky was speckled with stars and fairies. She looked up into the canopy of rose leafs and blossoms that were woven between the crosses of pale wood. Their petals shone like scraps of velvet in the fairy light. Bill and Fleur's vows still seemed to echo in the small space, and Hermione smiled at the thought.

"_And I shall love you through all, with each step we take."_

_"And I too, will love you until 'ze end of time."_

It was hard to believe that it had been a month already. She and Ron had travelled with Harry to the Dursleys', where they had quickly been shoved out the door. That, of course, was enough to give the last dose of his protection, and together they had set off down the street, trunks in tow.

Once they'd arrived, the Burrow had been a whirl or excitement. Of course, Bill had to be tended to first. Fleur had scarcely left his side, as she put on his ointment by the hour. His face had barely healed, and Hermione doubted that it would ever heal fully. He had not shown any signs of werewolf tendencies, according to Remus, yet Hermione was still glad a full moon wasn't looming over their heads.

She heard tuttering, overhead and looked up into the rose vines. There were fairies perched on them as if they were overstuffed cushions. They whispered in their tiny voices that seemed to hum in the slight breeze that was rustling over the moonlit garden.

Hermione turned to look back across the lawn. She could see the wedding party from where she stood. The tables were clustered close together with people buzzing from chair to chair, chatting excitedly. It looked bright, warm and wonderful, just as it had when she had left it not long ago. She sighed and pressed her cheek to the side of the arch as the music began to play, settling itself into the thick layers of the summer air. Hermione watched as Bill took Fleur into his arms. They started moving with the music slowly and perfectly, all the while staring intently into each other's eyes. They were embracing more than dancing, and Fleur's silvery hair swayed at her back. Her wedding dress hugged her slender frame perfectly, and to Hermione's amazement, the white had not deprived her of color at all. On the contrary, her peachy skin shone like it was glowing.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were standing outside of the circle of dancers.The Weasley matriarch was chewing on her lip as her chin trembled slightly. She had a handkerchief clutched in one of her fists, and Fleur's bouquet in the other. Her cheeks were glossy with tears and Mr. Weasley held her tight around the waist. Hermione smiled sympathetically from her distant vantage point. She could only dream about how it would feel to finally let your son be taken care of by someone else. _At least_, thought Hermione, _he's only the first one_. _Lord knows when Fred and George will ever settle down_.

She moved her eyes over all the small tables. Most of the guests were people she knew or had seen before, at some point. Percy, of course, had made another excuse not to come. Fred and George were surrounded by a large crowd of laughing wizards and witches. A very loud bang sounded, followed by a puff of black smoke. In the next few seconds, Fred appeared in the middle of the dance floor with a black eye and a pair of binoculars. Hermione rolled her eyes.

Remus and Tonks were dancing beside Bill and Fleur, Moody was jabbering on with Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Professor McGonagall was having a lively conversation with someone from the Ministry. Towards the outskirts of the tables she saw Harry and Ginny. They were silent and still, their empty plates pushed towards the center, besides Ginny's wilting bouquet. Harry's elbows rested heavily on the cream colored tablecloth, and Ginny's arm was slung through his. She pressed her cheek to his shoulder and leaned against him as she watched her brother dance. With a slight smile, Hermione watched as Harry leaned down and placed a kiss softly on the top of Ginny's fiery hair. What they were, no one knew, but Hermione suspected that it was better that way.

At the adjacent table sat the reason for her escape to her lonely and abandoned wedding arch. Ron Weasley's back was to her, and she could only see his copper hair. It was gleaming, like Ginny's, with the flickering flames of the candles hovering overhead. Her heartbeat quickened and she swallowed.

She and Ron were hovering in the limbo between friendship and love, as always, and it was a horrible place to be. Hermione hated it more than she'd hated anything. Things had been so perfect back at school after their apologies had been said, and 'Lav-Lav' was out of the picture. It had been like normal, the way it had been for six years, and yet moments of pure fantasy had slipped in too. There was when he had brushed the snow off her shoulder in Charms, or the way he had croaked her name in the hospital wing. She closed her eyes as she remembered the way he had held her at the funeral. His callused hands had smoothed her hair as she'd cried into his midnight dress robes.

Now, so far from Hogwarts, and so close to the end of everything, Hermione was tired of normal. She had wasted years on a seemingly impossible wish, convincing herself with each day that it would happen, that _someday_ it would fall in to place. There had been days last year, when she was sure the next day would be the day she had been waiting for. And each day she had been disappointed.

Back at the party, she could see Ron craning his neck, looking over the sea of heads around him. Hermione started backing away from her hiding place. She wasn't ready to swallow all her feelings again. Not yet. The breeze felt good on her heart's open wounds. She turned and walked slowly down the sloping grass hill towards the pond at the back of the Burrow. The golden light faded from the festivities and the moonlight seemed to cover the grass in a silver frost.

Hermione let out a loud sigh, and was happy no one was around to hear it. She knew that Ron was looking for her. It made her happy to know that he would never have looked for Lavender the same way.

The breeze disrupted the glassy surface of the pond and slivers of moonlight danced across the ripples. She steered herself towards a small rickety dock. It was no wider than the span of her arms and no longer than Ron was tall. It served no real purpose, for the pond was nowhere near deep enough to have a boat, or dive into, for that matter. In fact, the only reason it was ever used was for sitting. She lowered herself onto the creaky boards so her legs were dangling over the edge. There was a grove of reeds and cattails in front of her, and she could hear the croaking of frogs and toads from within. The water gurgled as a fish darted away from her moon-cast shadow.

Hermione mindlessly twiddled with the front of her dress. It was lilac and pretty, and she adored it, but she didn't feel nearly pretty enough. Of course, _no_ girl could feel remotely attractive next to Fleur, but it wasn't just that. Ever since she had seen the look on Ron's face when Lavender had walked into a room, she couldn't make herself look pretty. She knew that Ron would never look at her that way. How could he? Her hair was wild, her eyes were dull and brown, and her skin was smattered the tiny freckles, not fair and pale like Lavender Brown's.

She let her eyes fall closed and she took a deep breath. Even though Ron and Lavender had been over for ages, thinking about it still hurt. It was almost embarrassing to think about how much of her year had been ruined by them. She had wasted so much time on being upset, and now time was running short.

Hermione tilted her head back and looked up at the stars. She had to let her girlish dreams go. Nobody knew what would happen in the coming moths: perhaps Harry had the right idea. Attachment was just another way to attract Voldermort's attention. After all, she cared for Ron more than anybody, and she would do whatever it took to keep him safe.

Her chest tightened uncomfortably and she closed her eyes tight. Tonight, witnessed by only the stars and the moon, and the whispers of the gnomes and fairies, she, Hermione Granger, had to give up on Ron Weasley.

The planks of wood beneath her groaned and cracked her newfound quiet like a whip. With a gasp, Hermione whipped her head around. Ron stood on the edge of the dock ,feet bare, eyes cast down at her, and a smile lingering on his face. It was the smile that made her heart turn somersaults, the kind that tugged at only one corner of his mouth and gave him the tiniest indent of a dimple. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she hastily reminded herself what she had just given up seconds before.

_He doesn't want you_.

"What are you doing down here all alone?" she heard him ask. Ron's voice was soft and warm, and full of the fondness he sometimes saved for her.

Hermione took another deep breath. His feet padded the few steps it took to get to where she was, and he sunk down beside her. The little pier bowed under their combined weight, yet it did not worry either of them. They had spent four summers jumping, dancing and lounging on the tiny dock. The creaks and squeaks merely faded into the background.

She watched as Ron let his toes sink under the dark, murky surface of the pond and sighed. The subtle pressure of his leg against her own made her skin feel like fire. How many times had he sat this close to her? Why now, of all times, had it stolen her voice? Memories of being wrapped in his arms with his hand in her hair bounced inside her head.

"Hermione," he prompted, nudging her with his arm. "You all right?"

She swallowed hard. _No_.

It was a moment before she said, "I'm fine," as coolly and casually as she could manage. Hermione stared at his submerged feet. Her toes were nearly a foot from the water.

"Too much Flegm for you back there?" Ron asked with a grin, throwing a thumb over his shoulder.

Hermione gave a weak smile. "No, not really. She looks lovely. I could spend all night watching her."

"I know what you mean."

She glared at him.

"About her looking lovely, I mean," Ron said hastily, flushing significantly.

Hermione looked back down at the water. "It's nice to see everyone so happy."

"Yeah," Ron said softly, "But you're not. What's wrong?"

She let his question hover in the air for a moment. She hated it when he was _actually_ concerned about her. "I needed to get away. Needed to think," she said at last, fingering a tendril of her hair.

"Oh," she heard him say.

The air stilled between them in an uncomfortable silence. Across the pond the water rippled, reeds brushed to and fro, and Crookshanks yowled at a giggling gnome. Hermione realized there was a swarm of insects buzzing above their heads, and sighed. The romance of their perch on the dock was quickly fading.

"It really meant nothing, you know."

Ron's voice cut through the silence and caught her off guard. She latched her hands around the edge of the dock to hold herself steady. "What?"

He looked at her sheepishly, ears purple in the dark. "Me and," he gulped, "Lavender. It meant nothing."

Hermione's skin prickled unpleasantly and she swallowed a growl. This was certainly _not_ her preferred subject. When she wanted to avoid thinking about Lavender, someone spoke about her. When she wanted to get away from the gossip, her mind wandered back to Lavender still. It was infuriating!

"Well," she answered coldly, "I should hope so. Couples that snog like that usually never last." \

Ron sighed beside her. "I know," he said pathetically, toying with his sleeve.

A pang of guilt poked at Hermione's heart until he added, "I don't think we were really aiming for much more than snogging, really."

Her insides started to boil. He had magnificent timing, _really_. Just when things were getting back to normal he had to bring up romance again. She was done talking about romance. She had just sworn off Ron, and as far as she was concerned, she wanted to keep it that way.

Well, for at least five minutes, and that wasn't going very well. Ron _had_ come a long way to see her. That had spurred a fresh new line of instantaneous daydreams that were inspired by the lovely moon and the water and the warm air. Now here Ron was, trampling her hopes back down to the dusty ground again, where she was beginning to think they belonged.

At last she swallowed the lump in her throat enough to speak What kind of girl did Ron take her for? Hermione frowned. "That's…very admirable," she quipped, looking over the water, eyes burning.

"No, it isn't," Ron said immediately. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, as if he was finally realizing the ridicule of the situation. "It was stupid."

Hermione snorted to herself and gazed more fixedly at her wildly swinging cat across the pond. At least a thousand insults were dangling off the tip of her tongue.

"Look, I only did it because Ginny got a rise out of me!" he said defensively.

Hermione whirled to face him. "What!" Her vision blurred as her eyes filled. "Is that your _excuse?_"

Ron shrunk back. Voice suddenly small, he said, "She said you kissed Viktor Krum."

Hermione felt the blood still in her veins.

"She kept going on about how I was the only one who hadn't kissed anyone," Ron continued, waving his hands wildly. "I felt stupid and, well…Harry's done it, and you…and I didn't want to be the only one. I felt that if I had some experience maybe I would…" Hermione felt Ron look over at her, but she looked down at the water, forcing the swelling feeling in her stomach to go away. Ron sighed heavily and turned away. "I don't know." He crossed his arms over his chest.

As she stared determinately at her feet, Hermione felt the flood of tears start to tumble over her lashes. She gritted her teeth and tried her hardest to force them away. The same tears had plagued her since that horrid Quidditch party, when she'd seen Ron giving Lavender everything she had hoped he would save for her.

She sniffed softly and tried to keep the tremble in her voice under control. "I didn't kiss him," she said quietly, hoping he had heard her. She was too ashamed to repeat herself.

IRon sucked in a breath and she could see his arms unfold. It was quiet for a few seconds before he stuttered, "Y-You didn't?"

She shook her head. Several more tears fell from her eyes. "I was waiting. I was waiting for…"

Ron turned to look at her, yet she still kept her eyes on the toes of her shoes. "You," she finished softly.

It was as though the noise had been sucked out of the universe. Not even a toad croaked. The music from the house had faded and all she could hear was the squashing sound that occurred each time she blinked her puddley eyes.

"But I thought you and Viktor…"

"Thought we what?" Hermione barked, suddenly furious. "You thought the one night we actually spent together meant we were snogging?"

Ron's mouth was bobbing like a fish.

"You're so pathetic, I can't _believe_ you," she hissed, turning away again.

"Well," Ron sputtered, lamely, "I'm sure you enjoyed him prancing after you like a git!"

"Of course I enjoyed the attention, who wouldn't? For once someone was treating me like a _girl_, a detail you so conveniently failed to notice until this year. I only let Viktor carry on because…well, I'd hoped it would make you…" She sighed loudly. "It doesn't matter. You, of all people, should understand what it's like to be swept up in the moment. You, who have been drooling all over your brother's _fiancé _all summer!"

"That's not fair," she heard him say in a small voice. "I can't help it if she's—"

"Part vela," Hermione finished for him. "Yes, Ron, I _know_ that. I've only known that since fourth year."

Ron was quiet. "Well," he said lamely after a moment, "I'm sure you at least kissed McLaggen, didn't you?"

Hermione's mouth fell open. "Do you use your ears at all? Did you hear a word I said? I've never kissed _anyone._ Not Viktor, not McLaggen, not…you." Hermione closed her eyes and pressed her fingertips to her forehead. Her skin was flushed and she knew it.

"But Harry said…at the Christmas party…you were…" Ron gestured with his hands over his head and face.

"You would be too if that oaf threw himself at you!"

Ron grit his teeth. "Well, you didn't have to rub it in at breakfast that morning - making it sound like he was your boyfriend, and all."

Hermione was so upset she was nearly shaking. "Yes Ron, I _really _rubbed it in your face, didn't I? I really made you feel unwanted when I kept you company all summer at Headquarters. I really made it evident that I didn't care for you at all when I fought Death Eaters by your side that horrible night. I especially loved rubbing it in when I was alone all winter and couldn't even spend _Christmas_ with you." The tears were sliding down her cheeks like rain on a windowpane. "I enjoyed that _very_ much, Ron."

Hermione turned away and dragged the back of her hand under her eyes. Ron kept his mouth shut.

"I didn't kiss them," she said again, with more force than she had expected. "I didn't do anything with them. I didn't let myself even _care_ about them because I wanted..." She gasped for air before the rest of her sentence tumbled from her lips. Wanted what? What did she want? After everything that had happened in the past year, and the past five minutes, was she ready to tell him? Hermione had waited for years for an opportunity like the one that was playing before her eyes. She had even hoped to spill it out in an argument so she wouldn't have time to think it over, like she was now.

She lifted her eyes. Ron was staring at her. His mouth was pressed shut and his eyebrows were pinched together. "Wanted what?" he asked, trying to sound annoyed, but sounding more frantic than anything else.

Hermione felt compelled by the desperate look in his eyes to come clean. There was a small chance that he had wanted the same thing too. And, if anything, she would be the bigger person in this situation. She took a deep, shaky breath.

"I wanted you to be the one that kissed me for the first time." The persistent memories of Lavender, canaries, and now their recent argument, came crashing down all around her. Lip trembling, she rushed to continue before she lost her courage. "And I was stupid enough to think that maybe you wanted the same thing."

Ron stared at her for a long moment. Eventually he closed his eyes, let out a long breath and turned away. He lifted a hand and slid it into his hair. Slowly, he sank down so his elbows rested on his knees.

Hermione looked up at the sapphire sky. "Stupid," she muttered, hating herself more than anyone. She wiped her eyes again.

"No," Ron said, shaking his head. "Hermione, it's not…stupid." He groaned and lifted his head. "I'm sorry, I didn't think you…I didn't know that you cared that much. Well I mean I _hoped_, but I was never sure enough to get the courage to…tell you, or anything. I didn't think I deserved it…" He ran a nervous hand through his hair. "But it was nothing Hermione, I swear. It was stupid, I know, but it meant _nothing_."

Hermione wiped her eyes and drew her feet back onto the dock. "No matter what you say Lavender meant to you, it still hurt me the same." She looked away, back across the pond, eyes stinging and heart breaking.

"Hermione…"

She shook her head and moved to her feet, wanting the solitude she had sought earlier. She wanted to slam her face into a pillow and cry her heart out. "I'm going to bed," she said quietly. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Hermione, _wait_." Ron grabbed her wrist and held it tightly between his fingers. "Please. Don't go. Don't go like this."

She rolled her eyes. "Like we haven't left it this way before?"

"But this time it's important!"

Hermione glared at him.

"Well…it's different," Ron corrected, flushing slightly. He tugged on her arm again. "Just, don't go yet."

Hermione didn't pull away as she stared at the shadow of the Burrow. The breeze rustled her skirts around her knees.

"Please?" he asked quietly.

Her eyes dropped to meet his upturned face.

"I didn't want to believe Ginny," Ron said, shaking his head. "I shouldn't have, but for some reason I did. I guess I just figured she knew that sort of thing about you."

Hermione gazed down at him and ignored his constant pull on her arm. She would _not_ get her hopes up.

"I didn't think _you'd_ have any gossip about you. Not with him. With Viktor, I mean." He sighed. "Look, don't go. Let me at least explain."

She let him pull her down to her knees beside him. His arm rested across her lap, still gripping her wrist. They were deathly close, and Ron was looking her straight in the eye. Her heart was beating like a hummingbird's wings.

"I thought for sure I lost you to the one bloke I couldn't stand. I _was_ waiting, Hermione, but I went mental when Ginny told me."

Hermione let her eyes fall to the small patch of bleached wood between their bodies.

"Please," Ron said, "I'm so sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean to hurt you the way I did."

When she remained silent, Ron leaned close to catch her eye. "Listen, if you decide to leave, I'll follow you anyway. Until you accept my apology, that is."

Hermione felt a corner of her mouth tug in a smile. A tear tumbled down her cheek and she lifted her eyes to meet his. They were blazing and it made her head spin. "Ron…"

"So please stay," he said, smiling at her. "My legs are tired as it is. Or forgive me. That would be easy, too."

A laugh escaped her lips and she let him pull her the rest of the way down onto the dock.

"So, do you accept my apology?" he asked, as she settled her skirts around her.

Hermione nodded and caught his eyes for one more breathless moment. "Yes." She smiled. "And…thank you. I really needed to hear that."

"I know," Ron nodded, "but I needed to hear what you had to say more."

She nodded bashfully and chewed on her lower lip.

After a long, awkward moment, they turned away and stared at opposite ends of the pond. His hand was still wrapped tightly around her wrist. She fought to control her breathing.

_It was just an apology_.

"I hate fighting with you," Ron said suddenly, releasing her wrist and sliding his fingers between her own.

Swallowing hard, she looked down at their entwined hands. He was studying her fingernails, running his thumb over their smooth, polish.

"Well," he amended, "I like when we argue, but I don't like it when we don't speak to each other." Hastily he added, "Erm, does that hurt your feelings?"

Hermione smiled at him. "No, I understand what you mean." His thumb was still moving, and she found it increasingly hard to speak.

"I just wish there was some way to, I dunno, make sure it doesn't happen again." He tilted his head to his side as if he was studying her the way she had been studying him in the dazzling, silver moonlight. "This winter was horrible."

"It was," she agreed with a nod.

"We need a way to clear the air between us."

Hermione's heart felt as though it stumbled down several steep steps. "I'm sorry?"

Ron hesitated for a split second, then leaned a bit closer. "To make sure, we're…you know, feeling the same thing." He smiled. "How would you put it? _On the same page as one another_?"

His voice was high pitched and she assumed he was trying to impersonate her, but for some reason her brain wasn't registering that fact. "S-Same page as what?" Hermione's skin was a wave of chills and goosepimples. He was close enough for her to see each freckle and each fleck of blue in his eyes. The fringe of his shaggy red hair dusted his forehead and his light tipped eyelashes made his eyes glow. She licked her lips nervously.

A corner of his mouth pulled up in a smile. "For a smart witch you're really not getting the point."

But Hermione was too distracted to hear him. _Something about a point?_ Her heart was beating so loudly she started to confuse it with the beat of the music from the party. "What point?"

His smile broadened and suddenly she felt a warm pressure on the side of her face. Ron's thumb slid over her cheek to wipe away the dampness from her tears. Then, slowly, ever so slowly, Ron leaned close enough to brush his nose against hers. "This one," he said in a bare whisper, before closing the rest of the distance between them.

Hermione's ears thundered as if a storm was raging overhead. The blood coursed through her veins like hot lava, and it felt like any minute her heart would thump right out of her chest. She sat as still as a statue, afraid everything would disappear if she moved. Closing her eyes slowly, she forced her brain to remember everything as Ron lips slid softly over her own. His thumb was still moving over her cheek like a feather and his eyelashes brushed the bridge of her nose.

Ron pulled away enough to kiss the corner of her mouth, then the other, and finally her cheek. He found her lips again, much to her pleasure, and kissed harder this time. Hermione leaned into him like a limp doll, until she had to clutch his robes to keep herself upright.

Hermione realized she had never felt so overwhelmed, and yet so insanely wonderful. She convinced herself to forget about her floundering effort at kissing Ron, and focus on the fact that they were kissing at all. Ron, however, did not seem to care that she had no idea what she was doing. In fact, she had never known he was capable of being so gentle. His hand on her wrist was soft and warm, and she wanted to melt right into his skin.

They spent a long while that way; kissing slowly and softly, too addicted to stop, and too excited to rationalize their feelings in simple words. It was Ron who pulled away, after dragging his lips across the length of her cheekbone. Hermione felt her heart rate peak once more.

She didn't want to open her eyes. She had a sick feeling that the moment she did, it would all be gone, and she would still be sitting alone on the pier, without an apology or a kiss. Several, perfect, moonlit kisses, to be exact.

Ron squeezed her hand gently and she was comforted by the fact that she wasn't alone, at least. The air stilled around her as he leaned close to press his cheek to her hair. There was a long, silent moment that took an eternity but was the most pleasant moment they had ever shared. Hermione felt his heart beat gently against her shoulder, where he was pressed close. She could smell the cologne on his skin and feel the starchy collar of his dress shirt. Hermione turned her head to press the side of her face to his neck.

The silence lasted so long; she began to think it was just an embrace until she felt the trickle of his warm breath on her neck. "I fancy you Hermione," he whispered. His voice was low and like velvet in her ear. She drew in a deep, shaky breath as the words she had waited to hear for three years finally tumbled from his lips and into her heart. Even after all that had happened, those were words she had not expected to hear.

Without thinking, Hermione slid her arms under his and around his back. "Oh, Ron," she said awkwardly, wishing she had said _anything_ else, and yet knowing there was nothing left to say.

"I have for ages," he said, holding her tighter still, before pulling away and looking into her eyes.

This time when he kissed her it was a different kind of kiss. It was deep and new and amazing and beautiful and _perfect_. Somehow she knew it would be different between them. She _belonged_ to Ron now, in a way that Lavender had never been invited to. In a way, Hermione had always been Ron's, with or without saying so.

Hermione let Ron push her back onto the dock, so that her hair fanned out over the ancient wood. He lay beside her, one hand still holding hers, and the other gliding through her hair. For once, she was enjoying being completely helpless. She wanted to remain completely helpless for the rest of the night -as long as Ron didn't mind, that is.

Somehow, judging by his grip on her hand, she didn't think he would.

End Author's note:Well, how was it? I do realize that some people may feel that Hermione did kiss Krum and McClaggen, but I thought it would be sweet if she really did wait. I dunno, I guess I just didn't want to believe that she ever did kiss anyone. I thought it would make a good reason for Ron to feel insanely bad about making that stupid, rash, decision about Lavender (which I'm still bitter about, in case you can't tell, lol). Anyway…I hope "the council" is happy. Please review if you like!


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